Thursday, August 8, 2019

to be gentle






It is Spring in the mountains.
I come alone seeking you.
The sound of chopping wood echoes
Between the silent peaks.
The streams are still icy.
There is snow on the trail.
At sunset I reach your grove
In the stony mountain pass.
You want nothing, although at night
You can see the aura of gold
And silver ore all around you.
You have learned to be gentle
As the mountain deer you have tamed.
The way back forgotten, hidden
Away, I become like you,
An empty boat, floating, adrift.




~  Tu Fu (712-770)
translation by Kenneth Rexroth



2 comments:

Rebel Girl said...

Beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Thank you.

Bless, M.